“Political statement?” I ask, and Miranda shrugs, tucking some of that beautiful platinum blonde behind her ear. Her brother’s hair was just as light, maybe lighter, almost white but with an unmistakable gold sheen in the sunlight. Another useless rich asshole. I banish him from my thoughts. Well, I mean, if I were alone in my bed then maybe I might think about him … My cheeks heat, and I refocus on Miranda.
“She wanted us to grow up well, but with enough sense to …” Miranda gestures in the direction of the Gallery which, apparently, is the name for the balcony on the second floor, to the left of the stage. Rows of comfortable chairs line the space, and even though I try not to, I just have to glance up and see who’s sitting there.
Tristan Vanderbilt is front and center, impossible to miss with that dark smirk of his, like shadows under the guise of a full, ripe mouth. Creed Cabot sits beside him, but not like a flunky or a sidekick, more like a rival. That bitch, Harper du Pont, is on Tristan’s left, with a tow-headed girl next to her. Andrew’s up there, too, and when he sees me staring, he waves.
A small smile teases my lips. Okay, fine. I have enemies in Tristan, Creed, and Harper. Maybe that guy that was smoking, too (Gregory, was it?) but I have allies, too. So the Idols and the—I check the page still clutched in my fist—Inner Circle, they can’t be all rotten. I can deal with a few bad apples.
“Enough sense not to act like Creed acted today,” Miranda finally says, completing her thought. “Guess the trick didn’t work with him, but maybe it worked too well on me.” She looks down at her bare knees for a moment. “I’ve never felt comfortable going to school with these people. I miss my old school, to be honest with you. If I could go to Grenadine Heights High, I would transfer in a second.”
“So what you’re saying is that I’m the only normal person on campus?” I ask, and Miranda lifts her head, flashing me a grin.
“Pretty much. Everyone else here is too busy loving themselves to waste energy on anyone else.” She shrugs her shoulders and leans back in the pew, taking in the room with a critical eye. I’ve never been so grateful for uniforms in my life; it’s impossible to tell the billionaires from the millionaires from the … charity cases. Sigh. There are little touches here and there though that give off hints of personality: a black bow covered in skulls, an armful of wooden bangles, bright red shoelaces. All of which are technically against the dress code, but it’s the first day; students are pushing limits.
“I’m happy to be your one normal friend in the whole school,” I say with a grin, “but I’m nowhere near Grenadine Heights High. More like … if I’d stayed home, I would’ve been going to Lower Banks High.” Miranda’s brows go up, and I give a half-smile. I know the reputation of LBH. My middle school, located right across the street, doesn’t have a much better one.
“I’m not sure the students at LBH are any worse than the ones here,” Miranda hedges, eyes lifting up to the Gallery where the uh, Idols are sitting. Three male, three female Idols. What a strange social hierarchy, and so structured. As we’re sitting there, Miranda pulls the paper from my hand, drawing lines between names. “The solid lines mean they’re dating. Broken lines mean they’re on-again, off-again. Wavy lines means they’re rivals.”
“How screwed am I?” I ask finally, just as the crowd begins to settle down and a group of administrators takes their positions on the dais at the front of the room. Miranda won’t meet my eyes, flicking hers up to Ms. Felton as she takes center stage and starts the commencement speeches. We might be at a school for the world’s wealthiest students, but I swear I’ve heard this very same speech a million times in my life.
“If all the Idols are against you …” she starts, swallowing hard and tapping her pen against the paper on my lap. “Then I have to admit that I’d be worried about you. Seriously fucking worried. The odds are not good, Marnye.”
Nodding, I focus my attention on the front of the room and try not to think the worst.
I’ve faced bullies before, and I survived; I can do it again.
What I don’t know then is that these guys … are nothing like the ones at my old school.
Things are about to get much, much worse before they get better.REED, MARNYE – 1st YEAR, BURBERRY PREP ACADEMIC SCHEDULEMONDAY/WEDNESDAY/1st FRIDAY:
Homeroom: Mrs. Felton, Room T112
Period 1: Academic Literature, Room CH7
Period 2: Trig/Pre-Calc, Room CH9
Lunch Period
Period 3: Beginning Japanese, Room T210
